


Rather Live Out A Lie Than Live Wondering How The Fire Feels While Burning

by Arkeis07



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Love/hate relationships, confusing feelings, mentions of philosophers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkeis07/pseuds/Arkeis07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet for my Creampuff Secret Santa.</p><p>...and its not like Danny needs a reminder of how strange her relationship with the vampire has become; there's an itching of another kind that keeps her up most nights and distracts her attention from class lectures and study guides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rather Live Out A Lie Than Live Wondering How The Fire Feels While Burning

What a lovely Secret Santa tumblr user < [wespeakinmetaphors](http://wespeakinmetaphors.tumblr.com/post/106157981602/danny-carmilla-love-hate-heartbreak-merry) > turned out to be! In honor of a very classy and everything I could have wanted Danny/Carmilla fanvideo made for me, my present in return is this little bundle I banged out while digesting holiday cheesecake (o gawd).

  
**Rather Live Out A Lie Than Live Wondering How The Fire Feels While Burning**

Music if you like:  < [Lykke Li - Love out of Lust](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i00_qTtyxWM) >; < [Jessica Lea Mayfield - Kiss me Again](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mu9gbEf3aPQ)

 

* * *

 

Danny scratches at the scab at her neck. Two scratches which were deep enough to draw a trickle of blood each are now three-days old and raised. The pull of taut, coagulated skin and blood cells itches between the edges, and its not like Danny needs a reminder of how strange her relationship with the vampire has become; there's an itching of another kind that keeps her up most nights and distracts her attention from class lectures and study guides.

 

Last week Danny shoved Carmilla into the brick wall siding the student center. Carmilla had jolted out the way so fast that Danny couldn't stop her fist from connecting squarely with the wall, but when she turned to cradles her knuckles and spit out a curse, she saw Carmilla shake disorder from her eyes, and figured her dark-haired head at least got a good deserved crack on the wall from her sudden charge. It's rare when Danny loses it, lunging for Carmilla with clenched fists growls behind her throat, but when it does happen, it's fierce and competitive and Danny thrives on it. Carmilla has never shared anything more sincere than a smug look or toothy smirk, and she spits out epithets like epitaphs, but hasn't yet landed a deadly blow, so Danny convinces herself the vampire is in just as deep.

 

Three days ago, they parried with a different ferocity. It's harder for Danny to brush her knuckles over Carmilla's jaw in the dark than it is to slam them under her chin in daylight.

 

But Carmilla is more gracious, perhaps more at home in the dark of the philosophy department's library, so she guides Danny closer to her and the smell of worn books and dead philosophers. Carmilla's hand floats over Danny's shoulders, gliding down her arms, skimming her hands. They don't quite fit into her palms, and the absence of warmth feels like underwater pressure. But when Carmilla presses her lips to corner of Danny's mouth, Danny feels it in her hands, feels how her own body heat is reflected by Carmilla's mirror-like cool. And then she feels that warmth electrify down her spine. When she leaves this library later in the evening, she will feel a colder sensation run the same course.

 

Danny plans on walking out of Silas with a Literature degree even if she has to claw it from the depths of the hellmouth. She knows she's fighting for something in the long run, but the interim is confusing and littered with warped thoughts and desperate feelings.

 

It's a forced hand, Danny will tell herself, when she walks up the lonesome stairwell. Convince herself it's a necessary release, otherwise she'd never be productive, and she's got too much on her plate to try juggling this other thing - because _it is a thing_ and she has no idea what to call it, but it's there, between the both of them. It's there in the quiet of 1 a.m., when Carmilla's at her most active and Danny's at her most weak. It stills the air between them, or maybe its Carmilla's dead lungs the suck the breath out of Danny, and Danny, who's the one that still needs to breathe, has to lean forward to take it all back. Danny is the one that has lean down, Danny will curl smaller into the arms and deceptively strong hands of the other woman.

 

There's a whole section on Kant in this small musty library, and that's where Danny finds Carmilla, sitting on the floor with a book in lap and lit by a solitary candle. From the floor she opens her arm and beckons silently, and Danny is reminded of the gallows as she steps into the quiet row.


End file.
